The Peacekeeper
by seasidewriter1
Summary: "They need a peacekeeper and your drive is quite admirable." Rayne was asked to accompany her cousin Boromir to the Council of Elrond to ensure the Ring's path to Gondor; she never expected to be asked to journey with to Mordor and to ensure the Ring's destruction a path she believes to be the best option. The trials ahead will test her wits, her strength and her emotion Aragorn/OC


_Dislaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, nor do I own any of the characters-that all belongs to Tolkien. I merely own my OC Rayne and her father. _

1. The End and The Start

Rayne, Daughter of Ecthelion III, Strategist of the Guard of the Citadel, rode atop her dappled grey horse, Eriador, staring up at the early morning sky that was a purplish-blue that peeked through the rustling green leaves. She and her cousin, Boromir, had been riding for what seemed like months. They'd passed over roaring rivers, soaring cliffs and towering forests, stopping on occasion in a smaller town to gather provisions or rest in an inn for the night, but more often than not, they slept in the woods among the trees or road through the late hours of the day, watching it pass into the rising of a new sun. Their destination was the elven city of Rivendell, which was leagues away from their home of Minas Tirith in Gondor, and, thankfully, their destination seemed close at hand.

"I believe we are only a days ride away," Boromir told Rayne as he relaxed in the saddle of his horse, Tharbad. Rayne tilted her head back down, drawing her eyes away from the sky, her gaze landing on her relative.

"Then we should be glad it is only early morning; if we ride hard and fast then we should arrive just before nightfall," she replied, smiling. He scoffed slightly at her remark.

"It is too early to ride hard and fast; I say we wait till at least noon to endeavor that," he replied, a verbal sparring match kicking up.

"Then it will be too warm and we will find ourselves fatigued too quickly."

Boromir chuckled at her sound reasoning and shook his head; he loved his cousin, he truly did-she was practically a sister to him and his younger brother Faramir-but he had not asked her to join him. No, his father, Denethor, Steward of Gondor, had predetermined she would go with him to Rivendell; his father wanted Boromir to take the One Ring back to Gondor to be used as a weapon against Mordor, especially since Minas Tirith rested so close to the dangerous lands of Sauron. And why would Rayne be accompanying Boromir? Because Denethor wanted extra assurance the Ring would be brought to Gondor. He believed Boromir was strong and the power of such a weapon would not corrupt him, but he knew his son, at times, could be rash, and he knew that Rayne could keep him in check. So, she was sent along with him. Many would question why Faramir was not sent along with his brother, but it was no secret Denethor prefered Boromir to his younger son, and such an important mission could not be trusted to the younger man in Denethor's eyes. He even appeared to trust Rayne over Faramir. Denethor knew his sons had taught her the art of the sword under the consent of his younger brother, her father, Ecthelion III, and he understood she was quite skillful with a blade. That accompanied with the fact she could be at odds with Boromir one moment and then be calming him the next, it made her that apparently obvious choice to be there with him.

If he'd had his choice, Boromir would have had Rayne stay back in Minas Tirith, he would have journeyed alone; not for the pride of it, but because he knew the direness of the situation and he didn't wish any harm to come upon her. He'd brought up the issue of her attendance with his father, but he'd immediately dismissed the idea of her staying home and sent them off. And as much as Boromir wanted to believe it really _wasn't_ for the pride of it… there was a part of him that didn't want her along just because of that. He knew his father held him in high regards, but he didn't strive to make him proud, he just always was. His pride was bound to Gondor and its people. He wanted to do right by them, and he couldn't do that if Rayne was there to stop him from making quick decisions… but he supposed he did enjoy her company, like usual.

Rayne's thoughts on the matter did differ. She too had initially been against the idea of going, but something inside of her besides the thought of being able to keep Boromir safe drove her to agree. There was a part of her that _wanted_ to go, see how the plans for the One Ring would unfold, even if she knew she wasn't there to speak, that she was only there to make sure Boromir would ensure the Ring's return to Gondor… a plan she wasn't too keen on. But she held off thinking about that so-called plan till they arrived in the elven city. Rayne also had a sneaking suspicion her father hadn't consented her presence at the Council-Denethor had asked her to go, and once she'd agreed, she'd been sent to change into proper traveling attire as a handmaiden packed a bag for her, seeing as the two of them would set out to tell Boromir of their journey. The tensions between Ecthelion and Denethor had been mounting for years; Ecthelion questioned Denethor's actions and that led to many an argument in the throne room. The brothers, once as close as Faramir and Boromir, progressively began to become distanced from each other affection wise-in addition to Ecthelion being the strategist for the Citadel Guard and the armies of Gondor, he was the Steward's consultant, so, business wise, the brothers were… respectable. Even if Rayne and Faramir and Boromir all agreed that Denethor had become-if he hadn't always been-a spiteful, hateful man, she had to commend him for finally getting her out of Minas Tirith; she had been outside of the city walls dozens upon dozens of times, but she had barely ever left Gondor-she'd been to Rohan a handful of times before tensions between Rohan and Gondor rose too high. And for all of her life she'd wished to see more of Rohan and longed to see the Misty Mountains one day… and perhaps, on their return to Gondor, they could make a detour to see them. But, till that time came, she would have to be content with knowing she had a mission to do.

"Then I suppose we should begin to ride faster," Boromir said with a smirk, feeling as though he was challenging his cousin to a race back at home.

"Yes, I suppose we should," agreed Rayne, immediately spurring Eriador faster, laughing as she left Boromir behind her.

OOOO

After hours of close to none-stop riding, Boromir and Rayne found themselves approaching their destination, seeing elegant spires rise over the tree tops. Both paused to take in the sight, allowing their horses a moment of rest; the trees were beginning to thin, which could only mean that they were even closer than they thought. A grin stretched itself over Boromir's face as he let out a call of encouragement to Tharbad and drove the steed forward again, leaving Rayne behind that time. She was lost in the beauty of what she could already see of Rivendell; the late day sun shone brilliantly against the roofs and spires of the tall buildings and she found herself aching to see more. So, digging her heels into the side of her horse, she took off again.

Boromir grinned at the sight of Rivendell before him as he rode through the gate, his blue eyes greedily taking in the gorgeous backdrops of the elven city. He dismounted and thought nothing of his cousin, who was only a few paces behind him, just crossing through the gate. Rayne halted her dappled steed and looked around, unable to hide the awe on her face; never before had she seen a place more beautiful. Yes, she always loved seeing the glowing white walls and buildings of Minas Tirith, her home, but nothing compared to the curves and elegance of the elvish architecture she saw before her. Smiling, she slid off her saddle and stroked Eriador's warm neck, staring up at the waterfalls in the distance.

"It's gorgeous…" she murmured as she stepped up beside Boromir, who glanced over at her, smirking.

"Did you actually come because my father asked you, or did you come just to see Rivendell?"

"Oh, a bit of both _of course_," Rayne replied dryly, clearly being sarcastic. Boromir rolled his eyes as they both unstrapped the bags that had been attached to their saddles; the atmosphere around them was calm and relaxing, two things that they hadn't experienced hand in hand for a while. Leaves had accumulated on the courtyard ground and they skittered about in the gentle breeze. The sun, which was in the process of setting, shone its golden colored light on the spires and roofs of Rivendell, creating an image that made Rayne wished it could have been captured in a painting so she could keep it forever.

The two gratefully allowed a very friendly elf to lead their horses to the stables, saying that he would return to show them to their rooms. As they stood and waited, chatting casually about how different Rivendell was compared to Minas Tirith thus far, a tall man came strolling across the courtyard, using a tall, twisting wooden staff as a walking stick. He had long grey hair that peaked out from under a blue-grey pointed hat with a large brim and he had an equally long grey beard, both of which matched his charcoal grey robes. He paused just as he was about to pass them, eyeing them each with an interested look on his kindly face.

"Good evening," the old man said in greeting.

"Good evening," Boromir replied, inclining his head towards the man.

"You both must be here for the Council of Elrond. But, pardon my lack of manners; I am Gandalf the Grey," Gandalf told the two, grasping his staff with two hands and bending slightly towards them in means of a respectful bow. Rayne felt a smile inch up her face at the familiar sound of the name.

"The Wandering Wizard?" she asked, almost berating herself internally at the childish excitement that had entered her voice. She'd heard stories of Gandalf the Wandering Wizard as a child; she loved hearing of the adventures he'd taken up and the places he'd been. Denethor had made it blatantly clear that Gandalf's council was not welcomed in Minas Tirith so long as he, Denethor, was the acting Steward, something that had never quite made sense to Rayne; if he was such a wise old wizard, why shouldn't his council be welcomed? Gandalf chuckled at the woman's voice and nodded.

"Indeed so."

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Boromir of Gondor and it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance," he said in introduction, nodding politely.

"And I am Rayne of Gondor," Rayne said after her cousin had spoken. A knowing look came across Gandalf's face at the sound of their names.

"Ah, yes-the son of the Steward and the daughter of his brother. I thought for a moment perhaps you were siblings, you have enough similar features to trick even me, an old man who has seen far too much," Gandalf chuckled with an easy smile.

It wasn't the first time they would have been mistaken as brother and sister, it happened more often than not with those who did not know them. What seemed to cause such an assumption was usually the hair; both shared the same light brown hair that appeared sun-kissed, the only difference that his was straight and short, stopping at about his chin and hers held the capacity to fall in soft waves down her back and stopped at her waist. Another one of said similar traits were the soft blue eyes that were a dominant trait within their family's bloodline. But physically, those two traits were the only ones that the two thought made them look like siblings. Unlike Faramir and Boromir's straight, strong nose, the bridge of hers curved gently and she also hadn't inherited the strong forehead and instead gained well rounded cheekbones and a softly curving profile, traits she was glad she'd gained from her mother. So while they clearly had a family resemblance, they both thought it was clear they weren't siblings; but what was seen in the eyes of others were things they could not change.

Boromir chuckled and dropped his hand atop Rayne's shoulder, causing her to smirk over at her cousin.

"We cannot deny the family resemblance; though I do believe it has gotten us out of some sticky situations before," he commented, bringing back memories of the markets in Minas Tirith and put-off poachers who were hardly glad to see the Strategist's daughter in the forest.

"You must have journeyed a great distance to attend the Council," Gandalf commented, nodding to their bags, which made it clear they'd only just arrived.

"Yes, we did. I believe it was… three months? Maybe more? I have lost tracked as each day blends into the next and so on and so forth. And I believe we arrived here just in time as well; the Council is tomorrow morn if I remember correctly," Rayne said, agreeing with Gandalf's comment of a long journey.

"And we are _very_ tired; it was my cousin's brilliant suggestion to ride as hard as we could to get here in time," Boromir commented dryly.

"And look, now we are here, so you can hardly speak harshly of my judgement."

"I will be sure to speak _kindly_ of your judgement once I get a decent amount of rest."

"If you would follow me, I would be glad to show you to your chambers," spoke the elf from earlier, who had just returned from the stables. He kindly and gracefully swept an arm towards a curving staircase with a smile, gesturing the man and woman from Gondor forwards.

"Well, I shall leave you two to rest, I do believe we will see more of each other in the upcoming days," Gandalf said with an almost mischievous glint in his eyes, "Once again, it was a pleasure to meet you both."

OOOO

Night soon fell upon Rivendell, casting a bluish, silvery, moon-lit glow across the buildings and trees; the city just didn't cease to to be beautiful, and the ambiance of sweetly singing birds, chirping crickets and rushing waterfalls just made it seem all the more… perfect. After Boromir had taken his dinner in his chamber, he took it upon himself to take a walk, familiarize himself with his new surroundings. Late at night, when almost everyone had retired to their rooms, he climbed a set of smooth stairs that led him to a balcony sort of area, where there was a gorgeously painted section of the wall; the man froze before the mural of Isildur wielding his broken sword Narsil, the jagged shard thrust upward at Sauron, who was bearing down upon him. Boromir was suddenly aware of a presence behind him, one that caused him enough surprise to spin on his heel to face whoever was there.

He had expected an elf, perhaps, not the man who lounged in a chair reading a book. He said nothing, he merely stared at Boromir with a piercing gaze and a strong presence.

"You are no elf," Boromir commented calmly.

"Men of the South are welcome here," the man replied equally as calm, raising the hand that had been resting on the banister to gesture towards Boromir.

"Who are you?"

"I am a friend to Gandalf the Grey." Boromir nodded, remembering the old wizard from earlier that day.

"Then we are here on common purpose… friend," he said to the man, a kind smile pulling up on his lips. The man made no reply, but instead watched as the man of Gondor's eye caught the precious artifact behind him. On a slightly raised section of the stone floor, bathed in moonlight, a marble statue of Isildur held what was almost like a shield, which had a soft blue swatch of cloth draped over it, on which rested… "The Shards of Narsil." Boromir lifted the hilt, adjusting it to hold it in both his hands, staring at the jagged shard of the blade that was still attached. "The blade that cut the ring off Sauron's hand…" He trailed his fingers up the jagged edges, the metal slicing a cut into his pointer finger; Boromir marveled at the sharp pain and the blood that had begun to drip down his finger. "Still sharp…" Once again, he became aware of the heavy gaze of the man in the room, who was still watching him. Swallowing thickly, Boromir licked his suddenly dry lips, feeling as though he'd somehow… _insulted_ the man. "But no more than a broken heirloom." He hastily placed it back onto the statue, where it teetered on the edge and then it clattered to the ground with loud metallic clangs.

Boromir froze at the sounds as he began to walk away; he glanced over his shoulder as if contemplating whether he should go back and replace it properly. His decision was to ignore it, disappearing into the night-blanketed halls. The man rose to his feet and shut his book, feet quietly padding across the stone floor as he crossed to the statue. Bending over, he picked up the hilt with steady hands, carefully replacing it where it was meant to lie, with the remaining shards of Narsil. He stared at the shattered blade as he took a step back from the statue, one hand resting on his stomach.

Rayne jogged up a set of smooth stairs having spotted the figure of a man on a balcony; she'd gone to speak to Boromir and found that he had disappeared from his room. She wanted to have words with him about the Council before she went to bed and intended to find him. So hoping the man she saw was Boromir, she'd climbed the steps and rounded a corner… only to discover she'd run into someone she completely didn't know. She saw a man standing before a statue of Isildur-he was a very handsome man and she suddenly felt very aware that she was wandering around Rivendell in nothing but her nightgown and a thin robe. The man looked over at her when he heard her approach, and she paused, eyes widening as she realized it was definitely not her cousin. He wore a tunic that was such a rich dark blue it nearly blended in with the shadows around them and the only thing that distinguished the color was the moonlight that also illuminated his features. The man had a strong jaw that was covered in a skin-close beard and his eyes were a steel-blue that held an intensity behind them that captivated her.

"Oh, pardon my intrusion, I thought you were my cousin," she apologized quickly, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. The man smiled kindly, inclining his head towards her.

"You caused no intrusion, milady. But I believe I may have just spoken to your cousin; he left not a moment ago just to your right," he said helpfully, clasping both hands behind his back. Rayne looked in the aforementioned direction and nodded.

"Thank you very much; he is a hard man to keep track of… oh, forgive my manners I have not introduced myself. I am Rayne of Gondor," Rayne said in introduction, dipping into a small curtsey. The man faced her squarely with a small smile and bent forward in a slight bow.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rayne of Gondor. I am merely known as Strider," Strider replied, straightening up while meeting her gaze. Rayne returned his small smile as she clasped the front of her robe closed.

"I would like to thank you once more for your help, Strider. I am very pleased to have met your acquaintance. I suppose I may see you again in my time in Rivendell, especially if you are attending the Council. Goodnight, Strider," she told him, inclining her head towards him before quickly heading to the right, her loose hair catching in the breeze and glowing in the moonlight.

OOOO

"Honestly, you are probably the only woman to get ready that fast," Boromir commented the next day, striding into Rayne's room after she'd called out she was decent. Rayne rolled her eyes as she stood before her mirror, anxiously tugging on the skirt of her dress. It had honestly been months since she'd donned and properly worn a dress; traveling on horseback was easier when wearing trousers and tunics rather than skirts and bodices. The dress she wore was créme colored covered with gorgeous expanses of golden embroidery and gold trim on the hemlines; the sleeves billowed about her arms and the train of the dress was modest in length, something she was used to, so she would at least not trip over it when she walked. Next on her mental list to make sure she looked decent were the braids on either side of her face that were pulled back and pinned together at the back of her head; one of them was slightly crooked, so she straightened them out, tugged at the square neckline of the dress and let out a sigh.

"Am I? I have actually been trying to make myself look presentable for at least an hour or two," she murmured, smoothing out the fabric on her stomach nervously. Boromir stepped up behind her and placed his large hands atop her shoulders, squeezing them as he met her gaze in the mirror.

"You look lovely, I assure you," he told her, kissing the side of her head, "Now, come, or we will be late for the Council."

_**Afterword: Hello, readers! This is the first chapter of this story should I decide to continue to write it, and I really would; I got an idea for Rayne when watching Two Towers a couple weeks back and I finally decided to sit down and edit through this first chapter. There wasn't much Aragorn in this chapter, but he'll be more present in the next couple chapters, hopefully, should I continue :)**_

_**Thanks for taking the time to read, guys!**_

_**~Mary**_


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